


shared history

by mako_lies (wingeddserpent)



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Gen, History, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Memories, Past Torture, Post-Advent Children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 07:42:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15505623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingeddserpent/pseuds/mako_lies
Summary: Tseng and the Turks visit Aeris's grave. Cloud isn't amused.





	shared history

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ClementRage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClementRage/gifts).



> I'm not sure if this is entirely what you wanted, but I hope you enjoy it!

The lake is smooth and clear, like that glittery floor of the old Shinra building constructed entirely of glass.

Reno says that her body is entombed there, mouth grim around an unlit cigarette. Memories make his Mako eyes dark. Years past, and still so much history she doesn’t share.

*

A history she does share: a windowless room, dirt floor sheened with blood that’s either hers or Tseng’s, remnants of Doom clinging cold to her skin, the imminent almost death.

Tsung reaching out but restrained by their matching chains—

She can feel them here—echoes of the brothers—

*

Tseng sets himself on the shore. She’s never seen him bend knee before, but he kneels before the lake tomb. Unease runs in her veins like all the Mako Hojo never injected her with. Rude presses against her side solid and certain. Always the first to forgive her ignorance.

Elena’s memories of Aeris are few and unremarkable—Tseng addressing her in the mines, and a glimpse of her (upside down) in Wutai. A flash of pink. Tumble of curls. Green eyes gleaming brighter than Reno’s.

All the others knew her in Midgar, and Tseng probably even loved her. Still, on the verge of death, Tseng didn’t speak of her.

(History she doesn’t share.)

*

Tseng feels her here, crouched before the still water. How, Elena can’t say. It was here, beneath one of the crumbling shell houses that Yazoo, Loz, and Kadaj questioned them. How can Tseng feel her here, when all Elena can feel is their clammy hands, the press of the blades, that electric shock.

Like any moment, she’ll wake up here with that beat in her heart _protect Tseng at all costs._

*

Reno brings her back with a mouthful of smoke to her face. She splutters, but forgives him when he offers the lit cigarette.

Maybe she shouldn’t smoke here, but she’s spilled more than blood and tears in this wreck of a city.

Reno—handsy mother hen that he is—settles a hand over the scar on her hip, gouged in by Loz’s gauntlet. Heat runs through her from the touch—a gentle, reassuring static.

The familiar rumble of a bike—Fenrir, she thinks, even as Strife pulls up to the lakeshore. He barely cuts the engine before he’s stalking to Tseng. “What are you doing here?” Strife growls, anger written in the sharp lines of his shoulders.

“I’m paying my respects,” Tseng says, unflappable even as he rises. He doesn’t turn to face Strife, gaze still drawn over the watery grave.

Strife yanks Tseng by the shoulder, making Tseng look at him. Beside her, Rude takes a step forward. “Paying your respects?” He demands. “After everything you did?”

Eyebrow lifted so daintily, Tseng says with all the mildness in the world, “Do not make the mistake of thinking you were the only one who loved her.”

This isn’t going to go well. She drags on the cigarette as Reno holds her back by the hip. Rude steps forward again, but Reno shakes his head—and Rude stops. Glances back at Reno from behind his glasses, and something unspoken passes between them. Rude falls back to Reno and Elena.

She’s never heard Tseng say the word love before, but it doesn’t seem to impress Strife. He hoists Tseng up by the collar of his shirt. “Stalking and kidnapping is love for you?” His voice is quiet, but chill with malice.

Elena hasn’t heard that tone since Wutai. Reno’s grip on her hip tightens when she’d step forward. They’re just going to leave Tseng, feet dangling as Strife fists his shirt tighter? “Don’t think,” and Tseng’s voice is a wheeze that reminds her of— _no_ —”you knew all there was to know about her.”

Tseng and his lovely, damned pride.

Except Cloud’s not having it. He drops Tseng and says, “Get out of here. I won’t tell you again. Leave her memory in peace. You gave up—well. You gave her up when you handed her over to Hojo.”

Tseng looks like he’s going to argue, even as he regains his feet. It’s then that Reno lets her go to her partner. She puts a hand on his shoulder. “Sir? We should leave.” Strife killed Sephiroth, and they couldn’t even escape the guy’s knockoffs. They don’t stand a chance if Strife decides to eject them.

His face twists into something sharp and ugly, but Reno says then, before Tseng can dig a deeper hole, “Get a move on.” Him and Rude come forward as one person. “Sir. Before Strife gives you the beatdown of the century.”

He glances over at Strife, nods, and Tseng—Tseng blinks at them, then marches stiffly to their copter. Reno flies them back and nobody speaks. Nothing to say.

*

That week, she visits Wutai and Yuffie hikes with her up Da Chao. They sit, drinking bad Midgardian beer left over from some tourist trap bar. Elena asks about Aeris, and Yuffie weaves stories of Aeris into stories of the mountain, until Elena can’t tell where one begins and the other ends.

Questions, rather than answers, and still more history.

*

She takes time off, and when Rufus asks, she just says that she’s already packed her bag. Duffle-slung over her shoulder, Reno tosses her another pack of cigarettes as she leaves.

Tseng says, “Stay in contact,” but doesn’t look up from his paperwork. He’s kept himself busy since the day at the City of the Ancients. Can’t say she blames him—they didn’t have his back in the way he wanted them to have it.

*

Her chocobo takes her back to the lake, and maybe it isn’t Tseng who has to let go of this place. But she’s not exactly surprised to see Strife, sitting on the shore. Elena sighs. The smart thing to do would be to escape while she has the chance.

He made it pretty clear, last time, that he didn’t appreciate the Turk’s version of history, and she thinks he’ll speak less and fight more this time around. Elena glances back at where she came from, just as her chocobo warks, and Strife looks her way. Expression cloudy, he rises and all Elena can think to do is hop off her bird. She’s never had the best self-preservation instinct, it turns out. The number of times she’d diverted Yazoo’s attention from Tseng to himself.

“What are you doing here?” Strife asks.

“Don’t know. I came to let go, I guess,” she pulls out the cigarettes Reno gave her, and lights one. “Want one?”

Strife frowns at her. “You didn’t even know her,” an accusation she can’t deny.

She’s still not sure if it’s Da Chao who met a gruesome fate impaled on the end of a sword, or if it was Aeris. And which fried a whole pack of wolves with electricity when angry. “I didn’t know her. But I was tortured in this city. So, you know. Baggage.”

It’s easy to say, flippant around her cigarette, but hard to think about. She’s a Turk, she should be over it, but well. He’s a hero, and here he is, years later, worn ribbon wrapped round his bicep. Everybody has those things they hold on to, even though they shouldn’t.

Strife frowns at her, then nods. Agreeing to let her stay? Understanding? She’s not sure, so she lights another cigarette and hands it to him. A pause. He takes a drag with a grimace.

Elena pulls on her own. Then asks, “Why are you here?” 

Strife frowns at the lake, and subtly puts out the cigarette in the sand. “Remembering.”

Seems like everybody does that a lot these days. Since Meteor. Elena takes a breath and looks over this cursed city and comes over to sit on the bank. Strife joins her after a moment. History and history. They’re both seeing ghosts, she thinks. Really, he should probably go back to Edge, but she’s not stupid enough to tell him so. They’re not friends, and she knows who’d win in a fight.

But it’s almost peaceful as they sit there at the edge of the lake.


End file.
